My Little Girls (a pair of terrier crosses) haven’t made any kills lately, but their reputation appears to have gotten around. If you have ever seen more than two Cowboy Movies you’ve encountered the trope in which a gunfighter’s reputation for being a fast draw gets around and every two-bit gunslinger in the territory wants to try his hand against the master. The other day a teenaged punk of a marmot was on the front stoop, calling them out. They ignored him as beneath their notice.
Or maybe he was there because he heard my wife was a soft touch and might toss him some spice drops. One or the other.
Like the youngest guy in The Magnificent Seven. Kinda pitiful in a way.
They got another squirrel today. They took their time because they wanted our big-ish dog to learn how to kill. He tried, but when it latched onto his collar all he could say was, “Mommy! Take it off! Make it go away!” Not a lot of killer instinct there.
Kids said that it was real big. I think it was one that has been laughing at me lately. It got halfway up a tree, then stopped and stared, daring me to shoot it, knowing that there was a car and a picnicking family beyond the tree, and knowing that I’d get in big trouble for merely appearing like I was shooting at people.
The other day there were 12-15 tree rats hanging out in a 30m square of park grassland. Where are the coyotes when I need them?
